


The Reason For The Season

by TheDreadPirate



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Love at First Sight, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-26
Updated: 2017-12-26
Packaged: 2019-02-22 00:18:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13155123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDreadPirate/pseuds/TheDreadPirate
Summary: Hannibal meets Will in an alternate world... i guess.





	The Reason For The Season

**Author's Note:**

> I had massive ideas for this thing but I need to learn to reign it in and just get things done!
> 
> Anyway, this is a world i've been thinking of. I really like the idea of Pangea, the world as it once was, so i stole the name and made an alternate universe where humans live with the supernatural but then there's also aliens? What? Huh? yeah idk either but like i said, i have massive ideas for this sucker and most of them centered around the book seriesThe Lunar Chronicals, mostly Cinder. Just the idea of other beings coming around but instead of effing things up or controlling things they are escaping an evil force and finding sanctuary in Pangea. Gah this is so convoluted now that i write it out but i did it and here it is and I'm sorry!
> 
> This is for Reeby and again I am sorry lol.

What does happily ever after mean? 

It means nothing to a man like Hannibal. A man who was not only to be the head of House Lecter but meant to be the Lord of the Eastern Lands of Pangea.

To him it’s nothing more than a fantasy. A silly story created for dull people of a bygone era. Some of the Fae folk still speak of ‘true love’ and the like but Hannibal knows the truth, he’s always known; there is no such thing as undying love and no one in these lands truly gets a 'happily ever after'.

This pessimism was ignited eight decades to the day when the sky went dark when it should have been high noon. At first, astronomers thought it was an eclipse though outside of the normal lunar cycle but soon the truth was revealed. It was a structure carrying people from an unknown world.

They look closely related to Pangeans though Fae in ways too. Many of the visitors fit in rather well but it is said that you can still spot one of the ‘Star People’ when light catches them just right.

Pangeans call them Star People or Phraneethans as that was the first word their ambassadors spoke after revealing themselves. It wasn't until years later people learned the word means _peace_ in their language but it stuck all the same and suited them as they hardly ever broker trouble.

They spoke of and delivered peace but hadn't counted on the greed of humanity in kind. The Phraneethans became coveted for their beauty that can rival even the Fae but it was their biology that was most intriguing.

The greed of mankind and the House of Lecter intersect in Hannibal's 12th year after word spreads that many of the Phraneethans lived on Eastern lands. It was true that Count Lecter vowed protection to the Star People even when pressed by fellow nobles with promises of fortunes. Even when a sword was put to his neck he refuses to reveal those under his protection. Nor when a sword is brought to his wife's and finally their daughters. The good Count’s righteousness is the last thing Hannibal witnesses of his father before the light goes out of his eyes.

Hannibal is saved by a trusted servant, an elderly maid who found him as their home is ransacked by mercenaries working for unnamed, well to do fiends. She smuggles him out tied to her back. She is stooped with his weight, turning him into her grotesque hump and wrested him to safety.

She begged his forgiveness for not being able to save his little sister Mischa but even in his grief Hannibal couldn't blame her. She saved him after all and now the rest lay upon his shoulders to avenge what was wrought on Lecter land.

The old woman cared for him as best she could care for a young man who had just lost everything. They lived off the land and she taught him all she knew of the woods and how to survive them but after just two short years she passed in her sleep leaving him alone once again. At that time Hannibal's tears had already been spent for a lifetime’s worth but still he honored her as was their way, on a pyre at night. He didn't even feel awful overmuch after heeding her plea that once she is gone, should he become hungry, he should fill his belly however he could. 

There weren't many he found who deserved the honor of that brave old maid but there were many who found themselves on his spit nonetheless. He dined on the flesh of man but it wasn't them he tasted, rather it was the satisfying flavor of vengeance.

Decades pass and Hannibal grows as does his intelligence, cunning and palate. His plan to punish the swine responsible for his and his families ruin would take much time and thought, interspersed with the need for simple survival. He cut down many of the low born players but their deaths did little to satisfy. Hannibal knew that the long game was the only way to win his ancestral home and reclaim his seat at the table of lords. 

His drive was selfish though it brought him no few friends on the way. He amassed a band of like-minded individuals. Men and women, human and Fae, even a few Star Folk along the way.

In his wanderings, Hannibal finds himself on the cusp of the very lands of his birth nearly 20 years after his exile. He’s not unaware that his travels were leading him home nor was he adverse to walking the streets of the market that was once only a handful of carts and now bustled with many shops built to stay. 

The ground and many a stall are covered in a layer of snow, a blessing of sorts after the rains that soaked the people to the bone. Hannibal is bundled up in thick furs and his hair is long and warming on both his head and his face. He prefers a clean shave but is not fool enough to remove that extra protection from the cold.

His hood is up as is his scarf covering his mouth, as he walks among the stalls that would stay open through whatever weather may come. The solstice festival is approaching, the time for honoring the death of the year in order to welcome in the new. A time that is supposed to mean sharing to those who believe in the spirit of the season. It's been a very long time since Hannibal participated in the festivities.

He sidesteps women who are buying root vegetables to make their stews heartier and is about to pass a group of eager children salivating at the candy stall where they watch the shop owner using honey harvested from his special cave dwelling bees that he dotes on throughout the winter.

Hannibal doesn't make it past this shop, however. He enters and buys a jar of honey with its comb and after a second of thought, a sack of wrapped candies. He thanks the shop owner who thanks him in kind with a handsome, grandfather’s smile and then leaves the shop, stopping in front of the children. He removes several of the paper wrapped goodies before handing the bag to the eldest of the group.

 _"Share well,"_ he says in the local tongue, a phrase used mainly during the solstice, a greeting as well as a reminder of everyone's duty to care for one another.

The children repeat the saying with much excitement and appreciation, some bowing or touching two fingers to the center of their foreheads to honor the kind man as their Lord if for nothing more than as Lord of Candy.

It's after this swift exchange that Hannibal spots the most handsome scowl he has ever seen. Its owner is bundled as securely as Hannibal himself but a gift of a dark curl has escaped his hood to sweep across his forehead, catching snowflakes as they fall lazily from the sky. The scowl isn't angry nor is it challenging. It's curious in a manner that Hannibal wholly understands while fueling curiosity within himself. 

Below a slight mustache lies thin, pink lips made chapped and red by continued licking but no less lovely. The man's skin is pale, almost translucent in a way, making him look far colder than he likely is for the way he seems to stand unperturbed as snow now gets caught now in his chin whiskers.

During this time, patrons are now sidestepping them as they have stopped between the candy stall and the parchment maker but Hannibal finally notices the blockage they've created and he uses that as an excuse to step closer to the man. The movement seems to awaken the curly headed man as his eyes drop their focus to look at nothing and everything that isn't Hannibal. 

 _"Share well,"_ Hannibal says with an amount of good cheer that surprises himself as much as it does the stranger and though the man starts at his congenial tone, he smiles in spite of himself before returning the greeting but with an accent Hannibal can't readily identify. It seems curiosity is his own now.

"I'm sorry for staring. It's just that I find it rare for people to live up to the solstice credo these days. It's very heartening and I'm appreciative for those kids. You made their week, I'm sure." The other man's accent is perfectly matched now for the region as he continues avoiding eye contact. The solstice greeting alone is special enough to be uttered in his mother tongue, Hannibal reasons.

"That's very kind of you to say and I must agree, folk are unbearably rude this time of year. I often find it mocking to hear one speak the words without living by them." Hannibal says with a soft smile that hides the breadth of viciousness that lives within him for the rude. 

The man opens his mouth to respond but he falters and merely nods. In this tension created by the man's obvious anxiety, Hannibal can feel a wealth of reciprocity. He is sure that the man truly understands how important the winter solstice is in a way that very few are able to.

Hannibal waits for the other man to speak in spite of his taciturn nod, willing him to engage, to battle the fear of revealing himself that Hannibal can see as plainly as the bright blue of his eyes.

And how had he missed that! Hannibal scolds himself. He'd nearly catalogued each whisker upon the man's face but it wasn't until the candle maker across the way lit his wares that the man's eyes did sparkle and transform from what Hannibal thought was merely cool gray.

 _Sapphire_ is the only thought in Hannibal's head as the man's eyes at last hold his once more. He took an unplanned step forward, causing the man too to step back but not away. He keeps his distance from Hannibal but he doesn't seem to be frightened off and that makes Hannibal all the warmer in his furs. In that instant, he desperately wanted to know if the man was warmed at their chance meeting as well.

But those bright blue eyes drop again and the man shuffles, uncomfortable now, wary if Hannibal's senses are true. He can taste the other man's desire to flee on the snow that falls to his lips and he knows a kind person would back off but no one has ever accused Hannibal of being kind. As well, only a fool would brush off this budding feeling growing within even if he doesn't fully understand it yet. 

"I'm called Hannibal. I would be honored for your name as well."

The man takes another stop back, one that Hannibal doesn't match. "I'm Will." He says low and careful as if it's far too secret even for the loud hum of the marketplace. Again, he opens his mouth but decides against speaking and Hannibal yearns for those words but is forced to substitute his imagination for what he wishes to hear. _I'm Will and I feel you in my chest too Hannibal._

This causes an ache in his chest like Hannibal hasn't felt since childhood. When fairytales were still real and tangible things. When his mama promised that he too could have a princess or a prince of his own to save from ogres in her stories.

For a moment, he's angry with himself for doing that, for wanting to believe in things like magic and true love and finding happiness in another being. But it's fleeting. The hope has nestled within him at the very sight of this man and it refuses to surrender to his old grudges or stubbornness. It unfurls as wings do and beats against his breastbone before he fully realizes it's only his heart and not some tiny, flighty creature that's pulling him towards and into Will. 

"Will," Hannibal mutters without meaning to. Only he needed to as the man's name is ringing in every corner of his mind, demanding to be spoken if not screamed as if he were a man possessed. He clears his throat, feigning dryness and wanting to confidently ask the man to a meal but before he musters himself to that end, Will is speaking the solstice greeting but in the man's tongue it is also a goodbye it seems. It's beautiful yet heart wrenching as it sounds far too final for Hannibal's tastes but he speaks those words in response nonetheless, even as he scrambles for a way to keep near this skittish man without frightening him off.

Will turns to leave but Hannibal's hand shoots out to stop him, not touching merely pleading. He holds out the remaining sweets and bids Will to take them before uttering words so disused in this new frothing society that he can only remember his parents speaking them to each other. _"Share well and may we soon share again."_

Will's mouth drops open and Hannibal knows that such gaping is solely handsome in this man. Never before has he found the look enticing. Not in the simpering debutants he's encountered in high society, nor the fawning beautiful and handsome youths finally coming of age in nearby villages. Only Will can possibly be this lovely, slack jawed and wanting for something he dares not desire.

Hannibal can see the war in those handsome eyes and the moment Will gives in if only slightly. He smiles, looks away and says in his beautiful lilt another verse Hannibal has no previous knowledge of. In fact, he isn't quite certain what the words mean as they are so thick with Will's foreign tongue but before he can inquire after their meaning the man turns and hurries through the crowd on his way, wherever that may be.

Hannibal stands there still, amidst festival shoppers, and goods sellers; bereft and yearning. Any other such instance in his life, where he desired something or someone, he would have pursued what he desired. He would have found a way to keep them, to get what he wants as is his way. But not Will. Hannibal knows he can never possess him, not with trinkets nor his cunning. No, Will is one to be coaxed surely, but honored and respected above all. There must be a long courtship to be sure, one filled with all the fairy magic Hannibal has long denounced.

Resolve takes hold in place of the fluttering in his chest and he knows he'll see Will again. For nothing has ever been more certain to Hannibal than the fact that he and Will have a shared destiny. Not only of the solstice but for much more than either can fathom on this unassuming eve. 

He walks back to the camp he's made with his small band of wanderers turning Will's last words over in his mind. He wants to ask one of his compatriots if they know them but instead he covets those words, selfishly keeping them for himself. He can't recognize half of the words so he focuses on the hope of the few he knows: _"May our_ preshti daun hute _if our_ foulsht _be shared."_  

The words are broken but the hunger to understand them is strong and keeps Hannibal warm and hopeful over the years. He still might not believe entirely in fairy stories or happily ever afters but he feels in his soul that if ever such things were real, they would become so by finding his way to Will once again. 

**Author's Note:**

> The woman who helps Hannibal: I don’t name her but the old woman is Molly Shannon. She didn’t’ have a name in the series either so..


End file.
